Life Is a Game
by JozuKurosaki
Summary: When Jo Martinez comes knocking on Henry Morgan's door, photograph of him from 1945 in tow, will he be forced into revealing everything? Now a one-shot story.


Life is a Game

Flashing lights, loud noises, cars rushing every which way. Amongst all of this stumbled a man dressed rather peculiarly in a gray sack suit with dress shoes. He was breathing heavily and, despite the chill in the air, seemed to be clammy and sweaty. The well-dressed man kept continuously tugging on his collar as though he couldn't quite catch a breath. He seemed utterly disoriented on the sidewalk, and a man walking his dog almost had the lost man run straight into him.

"Hey, watch it buddy!" the dog walker shouted in a typical New York fashion.

Gasping, the man in the 19th century clothing spun around and stumbled backward straight out into the road!

HONK! HONK! SCREEECCHHH

A few cars managed to swerve out of the way or come to a screeching stop without hitting the confused dark haired man. However, the very act of the sound blaring at him seemed to frighten him so much that he took off running straight toward the other side of the road where the traffic was going the opposite way.

WHAM!

The nicely dressed man had his feet literally lifted right off of the pavement as the taxi plowed right into him, unable to neither see the man coming nor stop on time. His back struck the windshield, shattering it upon impact before he rolled toward the top of the cab, coming to a stop as he hit the advertisement banner and then slumping back down on top of the hood.

"Someone call 911!"

* * *

" _Adam was right. Life is a game. And one that we must play. No matter how careful we are there is simply no way to go through this life unscathed. But fortunately for us it's a game that we don't have to play alone."_

On a fairly busy street corner was a small shop that stood out amongst the rest as being fairly unique. An antiques store, but not just any old dusty antique store. No, this one proudly in golden font declared itself as 'Abe's Antiques'. Many of the wares that the location had up for sale were displayed in the windows and peering inside past the logo also proudly displayed upon the glass, one could see a treasure trove of furnishings all complete with their own long history. Unfortunately, for those curious enough to wish to peruse the aisles, they would have to wait for the sign in the door clearly marked the location as being closed despite the lights inside being on. And yet, there was also activity inside.

A rap came at the glass door. Three times, to be precise. It caused the two men who were in the midst of a very intense game of chess to turn their attentions, concentrations broken, to the patron wishing to gain entry. But it wasn't just any patron, which soon became apparent as the younger of the two men popped up and rushed to the door, a bounce evident in his step, with a large grin spreading in welcome. A click and a jingle later, and the dark haired man was now face to face with the woman.

"Hello, Detective, do you have a new mystery for me to solve?" he questioned in a cheery voice, tilting his head just the slightest, eyebrows furrowing.

"Yeah, I, uh, think you could say that," the woman answered as she shifted her attention slightly to digging out something from her black coat's right left pocket. After a brief moment she pulled out a golden pocket watch. The watch itself looked like it would have fit perfectly next to any of the many antiquities that the store offered. In fact, it looked older than most of what was up for sale.

"Thank goodness! It was just stolen, I was about to file a police report, and, well, here you are!" the man answered with a shrug of his shoulders and a grin, still keeping upbeat in his responses to the woman despite the smile seeming too large and almost too genuine.

"So, I figured you'd say that," she answered pointedly. "I also found this." After exposing a picture from the same pocket, the detective looked back up and met the man's eyes once more as she gauged the man's reactions as his smile fell away, replaced by what would best be described as a mixture of shock and probably a large amount of fear. "I was hoping you could explain it to me?" She tilted her head slightly; her voice softening as she realized that she had struck a chord with her friend.

Slowly, the man, now breathless, reached out and plucked the old photo out of her hand, staring down at it in astonishment. Not at the photo itself, but the very fact that she had possessed the item. The photo was clearly old, being black and white and taken with a fairly grainy resolution. If one had to wager a guess, they might conclude it had been taken back in the late 40's to early 50's. The contents would have been ordinary save for the fact that the gentleman on the right side bore an uncanny, in fact, downright exact appearance to the man she was speaking to. The only difference was really the hairstyle.

The older man that had been his opponent at chess had joined the conversation from the side, peering over the shoulder to see the photo. With an unsurprised reaction even as his friend turned his head toward him, the grey haired man told him very simply, "Tell her," before exchanging nods with the detective at their doorstep.

Slowly, eyes met up again as Henry Morgan looked up at his partner in crime Jo Martinez and almost whispered, "It's a long story." After a moment in which Henry took time to swallow, he gestured behind himself slowly, still clearly distressed from being presented with the startling revelation. "Why don't you come inside, Jo, and I will attempt to explain everything."

"Alright," she agreed, piercing her lips together. Crossing the threshold, she turned and awkwardly looked back and forth between her partner who was busy locking the door up again and Abe, his roommate and owner of the shop.

"I should probably get us some tea. Herbal. It's… Relaxing," suggested Abe, turning toward the thirty-five year old man and nodding toward him. It was plain as day that he needed to either sit down or take a moment to breathe.

"Yes, right, good idea, Abraham. I'll assist you," he quickly offered, jumping at the chance to move on to something that would put off the explanation for just a little bit longer. Slowly he handed the photo back over to the detective. "I'll just be a moment, Detective."

"Right, okay," she said with a nod though by the way her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at him, it was obvious that suspicion was rising within her. It was in the woman's nature to be skeptical; part of her job description, in fact.

"I assure you, I'm not going to attempt to duck out. We don't even have a back door from which to exit," the Doctor assured her pointedly, noting the level of mistrust. "Why don't you just have a seat over at the table? It shouldn't take more than a minute."

"Alright," she agreed finally, relaxing her shoulders and doing just that, walking over to the chess table and sitting down to wait for the others to rejoin her, hands in her lap. Henry seemed to loosen up a tad after seeing that she had given in to his suggestion and ran to catch up with his friend in the kitchen area.

It was a small space, but they had all the right necessities for a kitchen. Everything but a microwave, really. Abe was already busy at work with the tea pot positioned on an appropriate burner while he sorted through the many different types of tea that they had stashed up in the cabinet.

"I know how you take yours, but do you remember how Jo likes her tea?"

"I believe black would be perfectly fine with her," Henry quickly responded, waving his hand dismissively, as if the tea was at the very bottom of his list of worries. The stress was more evident than ever on his facial features. In fact, it looked like he might have been on the verge of full on panic.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Abe. She has that photo but… Even if I tell her the truth there is no way that she'll believe me!" he rushed to say in a flurry of hand gestures whilst also keeping his voice as close to a whisper as possible. It seemed difficult to pull off, given the fact that he was so pumped full of nervous energy. "We should get our story straight before we go back out there and…"

"And then what?" Abe questioned, turning toward him and placing his hands on his hips and raising his bushy brows meaningfully. "Have Jo continue to believe some cockamamie story that we make up on the spot? Henry, it's time to tell her the truth. There's no talking our way out of this one. Just be upfront with her!"

Slowly, the younger man took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking his head as the words sunk in.

"Besides, I'll be with you so she'll have to believe us."

"That is true; it would be harder to dismiss both of us as being crazy, I suppose," he slowly agreed, nodding his head and seeming to regain some confidence that had been stripped from him the moment he had seen the photograph.

"Precisely!" the man full of wisdom agreed, nodding his head with a grin that caused the wrinkles on his face to be more noticeable, but at the same time made him seem younger. Perhaps it was some sort of strange charm that the older man seemed to possess thanks to his eternal optimism. He began to take tea glasses down out of cabinets next, arranging them and placing tea bags inside. "Besides, if she doesn't believe us then chances are we'd end up in the same mental hospital anyhow."

"Abraham! That is not funny!"

"What, lighten up, I was just kidding! Kill joy. Jeez, you'd think being immortal and all this time on Earth you'd be able to find a sense of humor somewhere."

A look of sternness formed on Henry's face as he placed his hands on his hips, almost in a scolding manner. The older man continued to ignore his verbal and nonverbal protests and finished up with the tea in a very efficient manner. The smell wafted through the air and almost had a calming effect in and of itself. For Henry's tea, he had made Earl Grey instead of herbal, and had poured milk and a small amount of sugar. For Jo and himself, he had simply left the herbal tea bags inside and placed a spoon inside of Jo's in case she decided to treat herself to sugar.

"Make yourself useful and help me carry all this over," he demanded, waving his arm toward Henry who finally relented begrudgingly and began to shift everything over onto a silver tray that they had. Finally the two were set and had everything ready in the dining room area right next to the kitchen before Abe went to go fetch Jo.

Once she was seated, her brown eyes moved from Abraham back to Henry before she smiled a secretive smile and said, "So, did you two come up with a cover story while you were in here?" She raised her brows as if to emphasize her passive curiosity on the subject while Henry acted affronted, trying to pretend like it had been the last thing on his mind before he finally gave in.

"While the thought did cross my mind, I assure you, we intend to tell you the truth. You deserve as much. I'm actually ashamed that I haven't built up the courage to tell you this before. But I've had a bit of… Coaxing," he responded with sincerity that seemed to relax the detective as he slid his eyes over to Abraham who just smiled. As everyone pulled up seats to the table, Abe passed around the tea cups before plopping down himself and taking a sip.

"Alright then, well, I'm listening," Jo said with a tone of hopefulness as she lifted up her blue china cup to her lips and took a sip. "Thank you, Abe. The tea is great," she added once she had finished her first sip.

"Yes, well, as I said, it's a long story. In fact, you probably won't believe me as it sounds, well, implausible," he tried to explain, gesturing largely with his hands and popping back out of his seat the moment all eyes were trained on him.

"Henry, just, spit it out already," she encouraged, a bit baffled as to his behavior. "Just explain it. Tell me about the photo." To emphasize she slid the photo over to him on the table, allowing him another glance at the happy black and white family.

"Just go for it. Do it quick like you're ripping off a Band-Aid," advised Abraham softly coaching him. It seemed to do the trick for Henry Morgan gave a large sigh and sat back down in his chair allowing himself a moment to collect his thoughts while adjusting the collar of his baby blue shirt as though it were too tight despite being unbuttoned.

"Right, okay," he said before meeting her eyes again. "Do you recall once saying 'a person would have to live 10 lives to pick up' everything that I have? Well, you weren't far off… The truth is that… I'm immortal, Jo. I've also been alive for a very, very long time. 200 years give or take a few since I've rather lost track."

There was a pause for a moment and Abe's Antiques fell silent during which only a small little tick-tock noise from some of the grandfather clocks was audible as they continued their never-ending job.

"So, this photo is you from the 40's?"

"Yes, 1945 to be precise."

"You're not kidding, are you?" the brunette probed, though the question in and of itself was less of an alarmed tone than it was a rhetorical question. It was unlikely, to her, that Henry was going to try to pull the rug out from under her just for fun. No, the sincerity in his voice was also too much to simply dismiss. That meant that he believed his story which either made it true… Or him insane.

Slowly, the darker haired man shook his head and replied, "I'm afraid not."

After another pause in which she studied him as a trained detective was prone to do she opened her lips and said, "Alright then, prove it."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Henry," she said cautiously, giving him 'that look'. The black look. The one that could easily kill and probably could kill if he wasn't immune.

"I would gladly but the last time that I tried to prove that I was immortal, things didn't go so well," he protested, shaking his head and leaning back in his black chair and looking concerned.

"Why don't you start somewhere simple then and explain it to me? You could start with this?" she said whilst holding up the photo again before setting it down. "Or you could explain to me how you expect me to believe you're immortal when I've watched you almost get killed before. I'm asking honestly here, Henry." The two stared at each other for a moment in the dimly lit dining room.

"Right, well, it's a tad more complicated than just being immortal. When I die, and I have died before, I don't stay dead for long." That earned him a raised brow. "Instead, my body disappears as well as all traces of the fact that I died and I always reemerge in a large body of water; such as the East River."

"The… Same East River that you _skinny dip_ inside of?" she questioned a bit more aggressive this time in her question as her voice rose.

"Well, there's an explanation for that actually," the young man, or old man depending on your perspective, answered. "The truth is that when I come back from having died, I always reemerge completely naked." Jo didn't seem all that convinced by his statement. Instead this caused her eyelashes to flutter and she placed a hand over her mouth. "I know how this sounds, Detective, but I'm telling the truth."

"If that's true Henry, then you must have died more than a half a dozen times in the time you've been here in New York alone. I've seen your arrest warrants for skinny dipping," the smart detective responded back, not missing a beat in her line in inquiry. She was a professional at this but clearly wanted to believe Henry more than suspect him which was becoming a more and more trying task as they continued this conversation. Their tea had completely gone untouched after Jo's initial sip on hers as her attention had been diverted; however, Abraham was listening and sipping calmly on his as though none of it fazed him in the least.

"Has it really been that few amount of times?" he finally chimed in now, laughing a bit and causing Henry to look over at him, raising his brows and considering it for a moment before he then furrowed them as he took serious consideration. The two then actually laughed, causing Jo to look at them as if they had just pulled rabbits out of their ears, her mouth dropping open a tad.

"Okay, let me get this straight… You're saying each time that you are killed or die; you reemerge completely naked in the East River but then… How did you die? Normally we're together in an investigation. I would think I would notice if my partner was dropping dead every five seconds," Jo decided to continue, allowing herself to get pulled further down into the rabbit hole despite her own personal regrets.

"You want me to recall all the times that I've died since I've moved here to New York?" Henry questioned, a bit shocked by the line of inquiry as he turned his head to look at Abraham who shrugged his shoulders and then popped straighter into his chair and pointed toward the immortal excitedly.

"Oh, oh, tell her about the train," he practically shouted with enthusiasm though he ended up maintaining an indoor voice.

"The train, Abraham?"

"Yeah, the train! The one when you and Jo first met and solved your first case together," he persisted causing Jo's confusion to mount.

"Oh, _that_ train!" Henry finally understood. "Though I'm not sure what good it will do to recount the number of times I've met my untimely demise and returned, I suppose it also can't hurt." After a sigh he continued, "I suppose you should also know, since it was the first time that I lied to you in order to protect my secret, Detective, but I was actually in the first car of the subway car from our case the entire time; including when it crashed."

"So, you're saying that you died in that car the first time I met you and then lied about it to cover up the fact that you're immortal?" This time she could not hide her pure skepticism. Her patience was starting to wear thin and it was becoming obvious. Deciding she needed something to calm herself down, she gulped down some of her tea though it had progressively gotten colder since the last time she had taken a sip.

"Yes, that's what I am saying. And, as I recall, you found my pocket watch inside of the first car," Henry continued. "Though that in and of itself does not prove that I was in that same car when the train crashed."

"That was also one of the times I had to bail you out of jail for skinny dipping. Though I suppose that couldn't be helped because it was in broad daylight," Abraham interjected with a chuckle.

"Wait, you're saying that Henry was immediately arrested after being caught skinny dipping? So… His arrest warrant would be on file," Jo started before her eyes snapped back from Abe to look straight at Henry, almost piercing in their intensity. "And that means that I could fact check the time that the subway crash occurred with the time that you were arrested; you realize that don't you?"

"Yes, but that in itself isn't proof that I'm-," started Henry, clearly working against himself now.

"No, but you had to have known that the moment you started to tell me the story," she interrupted, shaking her head and then tilting her head to the side. "I'm going to regret it but… I actually am starting to believe you. Okay, tell me about some other times."

Baffled at the confidence and the amount of trust suddenly thrust his way, the dark haired man looked at her for a moment, flabbergasted before he shook his head and went to do just that. "Well, I suppose if we're talking about our first case together then I should also mention that Abe and I did an experiment to find out what poison killed our train conductor? I learned from having Abe inject me with the poison that it was aconite and-,"

"You're saying you purposefully INJECTED yourself with the poison?" Jo questioned suddenly, holding up a hand as her eyes grew large. "Okay, even if you somehow are immortal, that's insane, Henry!"

"Yes… Well, it got results," Henry responded, looking away with an amount of guilt visible on his facial features.

"I don't think I even want to know anymore…" the detective whispered, shaking her head and placing two fingers on the pressure points beside her nose. "Just… Keep going…"

"Didn't you die a third time on that case? I remember you freaking out about it. You said that Jo had potentially discovered you had fallen off the roof or something," Abraham vaguely added before standing up and going back over to the kitchen to refill his cup. He passed by Jo's side of the table and scooped her tea cup up once he noted that she had finished it quite rapidly with her last guzzle.

"What?" Jo questioned, the shock evident as she turned back to Henry, leaning forward in her chair as the words sunk in. "You mean that Henry fell off that roof? I always thought… There was something that you weren't telling me about that case..."

"Yes, well, your intuition is usually always very spot on, Detective," he responded slowly. "Yes, indeed; I left a lot of vital information about what happened on that roof out when I explained it to you later in the hospital… The truth is that our killer shot me after I refused to assist him in his plans to poison the station via the air ducts. Afterward… I tackled him off the roof to put a stop to him. Oddly enough, it's not the only time that you've almost discovered my secret. At the Frenchman's house, in fact, I had just gotten into an altercation with our serial killer when you showed up."

"Altercation? Henry… I never saw you at the scene and you never once mentioned being there," Jo challenged.

"Yes, well, I had just stepped out after meeting with the Frenchman when young Devon's father surprised me by puncturing my lung with a crude knife. After following him I ended up taking a tumble downstairs during our fight… And, well, broke my back."

"You died from a broken back and a punctured lung? Henry, I'm no Medical Examiner, but that would take a while for you to bleed out… But… Actually, I did hear a noise downstairs that, when I went to check it out, turned out to be nothing… And you couldn't have possibly known about that."

The immortal man looked at her after exhaling a tad, too afraid to let himself believe that she was going to be convinced but also showing signs of being hopeful despite his best efforts.

"Your tea is getting cold, Henry," came a voice from the wooden kitchen counter as Abraham worked his way around to making a fresh pot of boiled water.

"Right, thank you." After taking a sip, Henry seemed to relax a bit. He hadn't realized how much his nerves had been on edge since the moment he had seen that photograph but his fingers almost trembled when they wrapped around the cup's handle. "Yes, well, I also died a bit faster than bleeding out thanks to some help but… That's another long story I'm not sure we should get into just yet."

Jo eyed him up and down not sure just how far she felt like going into Wonderland just yet. It almost felt like she was playing a game of Chutes and Ladders where she just kept falling further and further down…

Meanwhile, Henry felt like he was playing an expert game of chess. One he wasn't quite sure if he was winning or losing very badly.

There were still many other times that Henry Morgan had experienced a death, but now as he thought of the ones that he had suffered after meeting Detective Jo Martinez, he realized that there was no easy way to explain any of them without launching into that longer story.

"The truth is, Detective, I've also been lying to you about another matter. One that's more serious but at least has been put on hold for the time being," he started cautiously. "You recall me having a stalker?"

"Yeah, we also found out that he thought he was immortal. But, Henry, that man is definitely dead as a door nail. We pulled him out of your basement in a body bag."

"Yes, I know. But that was actually not the man stalking me but a man that my stalker sent to see just how much he could toy with me. No, the real mad man calls himself Adam. Unfortunately, you had the pleasure of meeting him once before. He was briefly my psychiatrist who went by the name Dr. Lewis Farber. I have no doubt it was an alias, however."

"Why are you just now telling me this, Henry? If you were sure that the man that you killed wasn't the guy, but a pawn, I should have been the very first one to know," she scolded immediately. "Especially if he was masquerading as a _psychiatrist_?" Despite the fact that the fiery brunette was actually visibly ticked off at the moment, Henry's assistant ME was right about one thing… She was very pretty when she was angry.

"What if I told you that the man that was my stalker was 2000 years old?" he finally asked meaningfully causing Jo to open her mouth, shut it, open it again and then pierce her lips together. "Right, well, there was a reason I could not tell you all the details but, this man has also been responsible for a number of my deaths; including in a taxi cab after one of our outings."

"A taxi cab?"

"Yes…"

"Like the taxi cab in our case where you were framed?" This time she actually leaned back and in an almost inaudible whisper asked, "How did you die?"

"Adam was attempting to get me to believe he was also immortal, as I did not believe him at first. He drove the taxi almost to the water's edge and then shot himself before it sunk into the river… The doors were locked so-," Henry explained slowly, not sure how comfortable he felt with the retelling of this particular story. He shuddered at the remembrance of feeling like he was sinking into the depths.

"The claw marks… Also, we found that gun that shot out the driver's side window… Henry, you dropped your watch while you were sitting in the taxi," she started before something else occurred to her. "No, you dropped it when the taxi went into that water, didn't you?" There was a moment of pure stillness where the question answered itself. "Alright, tell me about the photo now, please…"

Maybe it was because he felt almost like he was teetering on the edge of being checkmated, the immortal man was just the tad bit puzzled when he was asked to continue his explanation. Not only that, but his story actually seemed to have been believed by the detective in some amount. In his paranoia he had expected it to all be some sort of trick. While he knew Jo much better than that, his own mind had built this up far bigger than there here and now. In fact, he had almost expected her to have called for back-up to take him into a mental facility. Of course, knowing what he did now about therapy, it wouldn't be nearly as horrendous as an asylum. Meanwhile, he eyed Abraham who looked so calm and content. He envied him in a way but also wondered why it seemed like Abe held all the cards at the moment. Just how long had he been planning on facilitating a conversation between the detective and him?

"Yes, the photo…," he began as though it were an act of pulling teeth. "That is a photograph of my wife, Abigail, and our son."

"So, this is the Abigail you talked about before that left you? And… You were _married_ to her?" Jo questioned, pointing more specifically to the blond woman in the picture this time now that the snapshot was set on the table for them both to see.

"You told Jo about her?" Abraham questioned impressed and also holding back disbelief.

"Yes, I did. And yes, what I told you about her leaving me were true. The truth is that she left me about thirty years ago because it was becoming more and more obvious… The age difference between us," Henry explained rather poorly. It was difficult for him sometimes to fathom that she was really gone from his life for good, let alone recount to someone else who hadn't known her the amount of pain he felt from losing her. Of course, it had made it a tad better when he had learned more about Abigail's plans.

"I'm sorry, Henry… Also, if… If this picture is from 1945 then she might not be…," it seemed that while Jo's innate nature was to not believe everything at face value, his friend had still picked up on his distress and knew it to be genuine. Breaching this part of the subject was probably a sore spot for him and the investigator knew that.

"Unfortunately, you are correct. Abigail passed away not too long after she left," he told her, holding up a hand with the palm toward her to show it was alright, trying to relax Jo so that she didn't worry about him.

"But… You're saying that the kid is your son?" she continued, finding some sort of relief in seeing that he would be alright with bringing up the death of his wife but still willing to switch the subject. Earning a positive affirmation in the form of a head shake, she pressed on. "Henry… He'd have to be an old man by now if this picture was taken back in '45?"

"Hey, I resent that!" Abraham interjected with such abruptness that the detective nearly jumped in her chair. For a mature man, the antique shop owner sure did not miss a beat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Abe! I didn't mean you," she responded apologetically, feeling instantly guilty. To that, the older man chuckled.

"Well, I already know that I'm no spring chicken anymore, but I think I've only gotten cuter with age since that photo was taken," he declared, crossing his arms in a mock dejected manner despite the fact that he was now grinning. Perhaps it was the joy out of finally getting to tell someone else that hadn't already known that he was in fact, Henry's son. It was almost as though Abe had been holding a trump card that he had just presented to the table and had won the entire pot.

Meanwhile, Jo's eyebrows rose and her mouth fell open. It seemed that she thought she hadn't heard correctly for after a moment she sharply turned her head back toward her partner who tilted his head down and looked up at her before nodding.

"So, you mean that you're-," she began, despite the affirmation, turning back to look at Abraham. It probably was a good thing she hadn't been sipping on her tea or she might have spat it out in her surprise. "You're the baby in this photograph?"

"Yep," Abraham confirmed with definitiveness that was unshakeable.

"Meaning that…," she started, still processing the entire course of events in slow motion.

"It's exactly as it sounds. Abraham is actually my son hence why he knows my secret. He's actually the only one besides you and Adam."

"But you two look nothing alike…"

"Adopted son. Abigail and I took him in after being unable to locate his parents. He was found in an encampment after the war ended."

"Wait, hold on just a minute… If Abe is your son, then his mom… We just discovered that his mom had committed suicide. But her name wasn't Abigail it was Sylvia Blake wasn't it?" she asked, realizing that something didn't smell quite right in Denmark. But maybe at this point she was also just trying to grasp at straws. It seemed like they had an answer for everything. Every single moment that Henry hadn't made sense after having met him now it was starting to click. Every time she questioned how on Earth someone could know so much at his age now had an explanation.

"You are correct, Detective. When Abigail ran away she knew that I would try to find her so she used an alias so that I couldn't find her," Henry responded truthfully, allowing himself a slow and painful exhale. It hurt to remember her and to remember how she had left this world.

Eyebrows furrowing in concern, Jo found herself reaching across the table to place her hand upon his. "It all makes sense now… How you reacted when we found her. I knew that there was some sort of connection between you two but I never would have imagined that… You poor guy."

* * *

 _Slowly, he rose up from overtop of the baby carriage. His eyes had already adjusted to the dark but he wouldn't need that to see the angelic figure standing straight in front of him, dressed in a beautiful, light pink, almost white, bed gown._

" _Abigail," he started, gesturing with his hands whilst still holding his fedora hat. "Look, you mustn't misunderstand what it is you think you saw. There's a perfectly logic explanation…" He crossed over toward her, heart racing inside of his chest even as she approached him and began to shush him._

" _You poor man…" she said even as she raised her delicate hand up to the side of his face and caressed it. Before he could even fathom what was happening, the shock of her acceptance temporarily numbing him, Henry was in a deep embrace with Abigail. Slowly he allowed himself to relax, wrapping her in an even tighter embrace and closing his eyes. "You mustn't keep anymore secrets from me, Henry. Tell me everything and I promise you that I will believe every word of it because it is coming from the man I love."_

* * *

"What did you just say, Jo?" he questioned, mystified for a moment.

"I said, you poor guy," she replied calmly though she seemed to wonder for a moment why this was so baffling to the normally intelligent ME. Withdrawing her hand as she cleared her throat, she seemed to find a weird fascination for a moment with the ceiling and the chandelier above. After a second of collecting herself she continued, "Meaning I believe you. It's crazy. Insane. Asinine even but… I believe every word of it. There's no way you could have faked how you acted when we found Abe's mom, also. You were devastated, Henry, and I knew something was wrong. And if for some reason this is just you two playing some sort of joke on me, I swear they'll never find your bodies."

That caused Henry and Abraham to exchange looks before they both chuckled, almost mirroring each other in their mannerisms. "You won't have to worry about that then, Detective. Every word that we spoke was the truth. But, you believe us? That… That means a lot, truly."

"Yeah," Jo answered with a nod before she scooted her chair back. "Hey, real quick I need to use the ladies room."

"Right, go right ahead," Henry said quickly, allowing her to leave the room before taking a long sip of his tea and turning his attention back to his son once she was out of earshot. "Well, that went far better than I expected!"

"Told yah so, pops" Abe remarked casually, content to be able to finally say that to his father who merely rolled his eyes up in response.

* * *

"Hey, Hanson," Jo whispered low into her phone as she stood far back in the bathroom, turning around away from the door as best as she could.

" _Hey, Jo, what's up? I was just about to call yah actually! We've got a case near Time's Square? Real interesting one from what I've heard. Vic is dressed up like he walked straight out of the 1800's? You probably should grab the Doc and head on over there; he'd get a real kick out of this one. Lucas is practically coming unglued at the seams."_

"Yeah, actually, I'm at Henry's right now but before we head over there I need you to look something up for me real quick. Are you at the station still?"

" _Yeah, I was just about to roll out though. Why, whattcha need?"_

"I need you to pull up Henry's arrest warrants," she instructed, still keeping her voice down.

" _Al-right? Give me a sec,"_ Hanson responded. She cast a look toward the door as she tucked her cell phone closer to her ear, listening to the key strokes being pressed on the other end of the line. _"Got it. Right, so, what are we lookin' for exactly?"_

"Does he have an arrest on file for…," she pulled her phone away for a moment to check her history and then replaced it on the other ear. "September 22nd around 4:00pm?"

" _Man, Jo, the Doc has a ton of arrests. Uh, give me a second. Yeah, says here he was arrested for skinny dipping in broad daylight in the East River. Arrest time is… Approximately 4:10."_

" _Jo? Hey… Jo? What's all this about anyhow?"_

"Ah, okay, thanks Hanson. We'll meet up with you." With that she quickly pressed the red phone icon on her screen to hang up before steadying herself with the bathroom sink. Quickly she pierced her lips together, met her own gaze in the mirror, reached over and flushed the toilet. A second later she turned on the faucet and washed her hands, knowing that it would be picked up on if she didn't. Glancing at her phone one more time once it was in hand, she double checked the time on the report on the subway car crash. The train had left at about 4:00pm and had crashed a few minutes later making his arrest time only 3 minutes or so after the crash. And he had undoubtedly been on that train. There was footage she had personally seen of him boarding.

Pocketing her phone, she exited the bathroom and returned to the kitchen once she had calmed herself down.

"Henry, Hanson just called. Looks like we caught an interesting case of a man dressed like he just walked out of the 19th century. Care to join me?" she questioned, attempting to pass everything off as normal. That was the best way, in her opinion, to keep going forward.

Popping up from his chair, Henry took a few steps forward. "Yes, that sounds delightful. I'll go grab my scarf," he answered tilting his head down and looking up at her with those big eyes before he rushed off to fetch his trademark article of clothing.

"Thank you, Abe, really. I'm sorry about the calling you old thing too…," she started, feeling regretful as she turned to him, hands in the pockets of her jacket.

Abe laughed and responded, "No problem! I know I'm getting up there. Just some show it more than others." The detective nodded her head to that, realizing that he was right. Henry looked 35 but… He was really over 200 and there was someone out there over 2000 years old. She reminded herself to probe Henry in the car about that. Her eyes slid back to the photo on the table and them altogether; the cute family.

All too soon Henry was back, scarf in hand. This time it was a dark blue color, she noted. Just… How many scarves did he go through if supposedly he lost his clothes every time he died?

Deciding to ignore that question for now and shaking her own head to clear it, hair bouncing back and forth, she gestured toward the ME.

"So, let's get going then, shall we?" she questioned.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Henry answered before the two walked toward the entrance to the shop.

"Have fun you two crazy kids!"

There was a soft jingle as the two left the store followed by a click as it was locked from the outside. After a moment, Abraham got up, began to sway back and forth and hum before moving back into the main body of the shop. He switched the sign back to 'open', unlocked the door despite Henry's best efforts, and swung on over toward his record player. Swooping up a vinyl track, he continued the melody until the music started. Smooth jazz filled the room with emotionally charged melodies.

" _Sometimes we are our own worst enemies. We build up in our minds how a conversation with another will happen. What we'll say, what we'll do… However, ultimately, we have no control over any of it. And, sometimes, that person can truly surprise us more than our imagination ever could conceive."_

(Kurosaki: Hey there, lovely folks! If you're reading this, thank you so much! I was encouraged by Ailen Sanchez on Twitter to write this fanfiction based on an idea I had for how Henry would be able to convince Jo of his secret. I took the idea and tried to run with it here but I would never have written it down if it weren't for you! Thank you for your support! 3 I hope that you and others have enjoyed this story. As for the case itself… It's an idea I have thought of that dates back to an urban legend, but I'm not sure if there will be follow-up chapters unless there is a strong interest to do so. I do have some ideas for how the case would evolve though I'm not sure if it's needed. I also wanted to remind any Foreverists out there that might not know, but make sure to be involved on social media in the effort to #SaveForever as much as possible. All of our voices combined can really make an impact. Most of all I want to thank Matt Miller for inspiring me to constantly attempt to improve my own writing and to tell original stories with strong characters. And again, thank you all for reading!)


End file.
